


Next Time

by YoungWildThing



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungWildThing/pseuds/YoungWildThing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie makes an impulse buy that surprises even her and the consequence is Bass teaching her how to play guitar. Fluff with a capital F.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that certain cast members are apparently musicians might've had something to do with this.

It all started at a market. She wasn’t even supposed to be buying things all willy-nilly—or at all. It was a scouting mission. But her mark never showed. And there was so much stuff; it’d been a long time since she’d seen stuff. Stuff didn’t usually matter—especially not to her. But there was a guy there. And he was selling hand-made guitars.

Charlie had never been particularly musical in the sense of not knowing how to play an instrument or being what one would call a good singer. But it was something _missing_ in her life. It was childish sentimentality, true. But if everyone else was allowed to be childish—especially her mother and Miles—then why couldn’t she?

So, she bought it. An actual guitar.

She didn’t even take it back to the hideout. She left it in its case behind a rock near a tree. It was a ways away and she didn’t think anyone would find it.

One afternoon, when everyone else was busy, she finally got a moment to herself to try it out. She liked the feel of it in her hands. It was nice to hold a thing of beauty instead an object of killing, as much as she liked objects of killing. This was entirely different; this was soft.

She strummed her finger across the strings. It made a lovely sound, though it didn’t sound like anything in particular. She knew that fingers should go along the neck of it; she tried it that way and it made the strangest sound she ever heard a guitar make. She tried her fingers in a different position, and it sounded a little better, so she strummed like that a couple of times.

“What are you doing?”

The voice made her jump. And she was normally never jumpy. She felt like a dude caught with his hand down his pants, though, rationally, she knew there was nothing to be embarrassed of. Though, perhaps if it wasn’t Monroe who found her...

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug.

“That’s a nice guitar you got there.”

“You know about guitars?”

“A little.” He hesitated before asking, “May I?”

He sat down next to her on the rock and took the guitar in his hands. He strummed it a little and then messed with the little knobs at the end, whose purpose Charlie had yet to figure out. He did that a few times and then finally, he strummed and the sound was suddenly very pleasing.

“What’d you do?”

“It was out of tune.”

“Can you play something on it?”

He played a vaguely familiar riff and smiled to himself. Then he looked up at her. “I’d rather see you play.”

“I can’t. Obviously.”

“I’ll teach you something.”

He handed the guitar back to her and put his finger on hers, guiding them to very specific places on the strings on the neck of the instrument.

“Basically, there is so much to know about guitars—more than even I know. But you can make a lot of different songs with chords. This is a chord. It’s called ‘G’.”

“Why is it called ‘G’?”

“It just is. Now, strum it.” She did. “You see how it sounds like something you might actually want to listen to?”

She nodded, smiling unconsciously as he changed her fingers to an entirely different place.

“This one is called ‘D’. You change in between them in many, many different songs.”

He moved her fingers to chords called E minor, F, and C and then back to D again. They repeated that entire sequence twice.

Then, he said, “Okay, so those are the chords. But songs require rhythm to sound like songs. So, you gotta strum it right.”

He reached around her and put his hand over her strumming hand. He moved her and suddenly all these seemingly random chords sounded familiar. It made a pretty melody and then she realized—

“This is ‘Free Bird’,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s obviously _the_ song.”

“I can play ‘Free Bird’,” she said triumphantly.

“Well, kinda. There’s like a solo and stuff, but it’s a start.”

“Thank you,” she beamed.

His hands were still on hers; his arm was still around her. Seven months ago, she told Miles quite firmly that she’d never let him touch her. Now, not only was she letting him...she _wanted_ him to. He wasn’t needy. He didn’t _need_ her to do something for him like everyone else she knew. When he came around her, it was because he wanted to. It was really nice to be wanted. It was kinda like having a friend—except a friend you want to fuck.

“Maybe you could give me more lessons sometime?” she asked. She had an amusing thought of just waiting for him under the tree, naked except for the guitar. But then she wiped that thought away. She was sounding really stupid and childish. “I mean, if, ya know, I’m not busy or something.”

He laughed. “I know you’re a Matheson, so I’m just going to tell you: it’s okay to _want_ something or to want to do something just because you want to. You don’t have to be bored or have a complicated reason that makes it seem like doing that thing is the only natural course. That’s Miles. You’re not Miles.”

She flushed. Her uncle was a huge influence on her. And Monroe probably wouldn’t want to see a girl version of his best friend naked. That would be a turn off. So, apparently that cheesy “be yourself” bullshit that Maggie told her when she got her first crush wasn’t bullshit after all.

She strummed the guitar nervously and then blurted out what she really thought. “It’s cool how you do that. Just say whatever you think without giving a shit.”

“I don’t say everything I think, Charlie; if I did, I’d say a lot more.”

Her heart thumped; she forced herself to breathe. They looked at each other and time was just stretched infinitely to the point it didn’t even matter. They each leaned in, slowly and tentatively.

Gunfire brought them out of this dream before their lips could meet. They jumped up and Charlie put the guitar down in its safe place. They were both obliged to go make sure the others were alive. But, before they ran for it, Charlie hesitated and told him, “Next time we can be alone, I want to be alone with you and the guitar. I want to know more songs...and other stuff.”

He smiled and took off for the homestead. She chased his heels through the tall grass, and as she did, she realized she always wanted him to be her next time.


End file.
